Obsessed
by taralynden
Summary: An obsessed Decepticon; an unsuspecting victim; a plan based on those of fairytale villains. But will anyone live happily ever after in the end?
1. Chapter 1

Warning: slash relationships, some dub-con in future chapters

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places, etc. belong to HasTak and other copyright holders. I make no profit from this.

A/N: The plot was based heavily on a post by hecate_19 to the bunny farm quite a while ago (see my profile page for the full wording of the bunny); the execution is all mine.

* * *

"It just doesn't make sense." the tall red mech commented as they watched the cassettes searching the forested area in front of them.

Jazz folded his arms.

"Y'ain't gonna drop it, are ya? Anyone ever told ya how irritatin' that is?"

"Truth, though: you've _never_ sung for him? Even when you're alone?"

Jazz grunted irritably.

"He knows I c'n sing, I jus' don't want to. An' if I had anyway o'makin' ya forget what y'saw in that file y'weren't even s'posed t'be _in_, I'd take it."

"Says the mech who doesn't know the meaning of 'classified' when it applies to him."

"I might read it, but I don't tell what I know. My history's nobody's business but mine."

"Alright, alright, chill okay? I'll make the 'cording for you. I'm just curious why you want it if you're not even going to jam with it. I'll even... What?"

Jazz had stopped listening, stilling and focusing. The noise had been faint but it sounded suspiciously like...

"Decepticons!" he cried, spinning away and diving for cover.

Blaster took a similar action, and Jazz shook his head ruefully as he unsubspaced his laser rifle.

Typical. He had set up a false reading of Decepticon activity out here so he would have an excuse to corner Blaster alone about all of this before the mech said something awkward in company, and now they really did have Decepticons to contend with. Today was just not his day.

* * *

The Decepticon paced back and forth across the small atoll he had landed on, needing to think about his recent discovery and not wanting the complication of being seen while he was distracted. After all this time and in such a strange place to discover now that there was still hope, that there was a chance, was almost more than he could believe. But the surprise would not slow him down. In no time at all he would be living out the dream he had so long believed impossible.

Calm down, he reminded himself.

With Soundwave on the crew here he must be cautious: there must be no hint of what he planned. After all, once this was done he would no longer be a Decepticon and his intended would no longer be an Autobot. To get to that point, though, he would have to be careful to deflect any suspicion.

One way of doing that was to compartmentalise his thoughts by giving himself a new designation and only plan when he was in the role of that personality.

"Obsessed." he murmured to himself. "I am Obsessed."

More of a state than a name, but it would serve. Smirking, he lifted up into the air to head back to base.

"Soon, my love. I know who you're pretending to be, now, and I'll have you by my side at last, after all this waiting. Just a little longer now, and then we'll be together forever, my Symphony."

* * *

Jazz slipped into his quarters quietly, unseen by those few in the hallways at this late hour, but the light was on and a voice spoke as he closed the door.

"How was the concert?"

He shook his head in amusement.

"You ask me that every time. Why not just come with me, once or twice?"

"I prefer to hear you describe them. You're later than I expected so I assume it was good?"

"Oh yeah." Jazz sighed contentedly and shuffled over to where his lover was working at the one desk in their room, draping himself over Prowl's shoulders. "Whatcha workin' on?"

"Nothing that can't wait until morning." the tactician told him, turning the pad off and putting it down. "I was just waiting for you to come back before I charged."

Prowl rose and made to move towards the berth, but Jazz did not feel like resting just yet. He grabbed Prowl's hands and swung him close.

"Dance wit'me?"

"You've been dancing all evening." Prowl made a token protest but moved with him fluidly. "Aren't you tired?"

"Never tired o'holdin' _you_."

Prowl chuckled softly, sliding his arms around Jazz's chassis.

"You're almost in stasis on your pedes. Did they play that piece you particularly wanted to hear?"

Jazz cuddled in against his lover.

"Yeah. An' Blaster finally got a good 'cording of it. He says he'll splice it for me and save it to the vault."

"Why do you do that?" Prowl asked him curiously.

Jazz pouted.

"Blaster got to ya, did he?"

"I told him it was none of his concern, which is true, but he has a valid point. Why store tunes you won't use?"

"Cause they're pretty." Jazz shrugged.

"They'd be prettier if you'd sing along with them."

Jazz shook his head and felt Prowl's arms tighten around him.

"I'm not going to push." the tactician sighed. "I just think it's sad, that's all. Most of the mechs here don't even know you _can_ sing, let alone how good at it you are."

"I'll sing again when the war's over. Maybe." Jazz mumbled, then pushed away a little. "Dance wit'me."

Prowl shook his head and tugged him over to the berth, guiding him down onto it.

"Rest. We'll dance later."

"Promise?" Jazz asked.

Prowl smiled and pressed his helm against Jazz's intimately.

"Promise."

* * *

What he had was contraband. If he chose to share it, he could demand a high price for it and have little trouble negotiating for whatever he wanted. But what he wanted was this itself.

He turned the tiny data chip in his fingers, watching the sunlight sparkle off the edges.

It was that rarest of all things - a holorecording from Cybertron before the war. Specifically, of Vos and of a particular concert in the famous Platinum Spires. A last existing recording of a particular singer-composer who had been revered, and who was lost in the first attacks.

"At least, that's what you wanted us to think, eh?" Obsessed murmured, staring past the chip to the horizon. "Just another casualty, just another victim. But I figured out your secret. You didn't die, you just had yourself reconfigured and changed your name. When you're with me, though, oh I'll have you sing again."

* * *

"Mornin' bots!"

"You're obscenely cheerful this morning." Tracks grumbled.

"How couldn't I be?" Jazz asked, sauntering across the room to get some energon. "It's a beautiful day, I'm _not_ rostered on comms, an' Prowler started late for once."

There were several shaken heads and good-natured groans at his lascivious tone.

When Jazz and Prowl had first announced their relationship many mechs had thought it was just a ruse of some sort. That disbelief had prevailed until one orn when Prime himself had walked in on them in the middle of some rather heated intimacies in Prowl's office. Even that may not have been enough - Prime rarely gossiped, after all - if Sideswipe and Red Alert had not happened to be with him at the time and had seen plenty.

Whether or not they were actually bonded was still unclear. Neither had confirmed it definitively, but Prowl would not deny it and Jazz continued to hint at it.

Regardless, it was indisputable that they were only interested in each other and while most of the crew still feigned weary disgust at the idea everyone was secretly charmed. It was nice to have a bit of stability in the chaos that was war; nice to see a bit of happiness in the misery that was their reality.

"You two're gonna have to be careful." Ironhide warned. "Keep this up an' we're gonna have a little sparkling t'watch out for."

Jazz's grin widened.

"What a fabulous idea! You wanna be a custodian? Jus' say the word, Hide, an' I'll talk t'Prowler."

* * *

Prowl was a problem. Quite apart from the fact that he might be able to unravel the plan before it came to fruition simply due to his particular specialisation, there was also the matter of his relationship with Jazz. It would help to know if the rumours were true, but since there was no sure way to do that he would have to act as though they were.

Of course, the Auto-afts were too soft and idealistic to realise that even a bond could be subverted. They believed that once a mech was bonded, he could never love another. Obsessed knew that this was not true - the Decepticons had proven that more than once. Under the right circumstances, a bond could be _transferred_ to another. Not broken, true, but shifted.

He sighed happily to himself. How incredible would that feel, having Symphony's love focused on him? So very good. And really, it would not be that difficult to achieve. He just had to be patient and plan it all out the key to it all working was removing Prowl from the equation temporarily.

It was a shame it had to be just thought of his bright and enthusiastic future-mate-to-be being touched by that near-drone was enough to send him into a rage, and yet it was not time to do that kind of damage.

To kill Prowl now would only damage Jazz while the bond - if it existed - was still in place. No. Prowl had to be removed from the sphere of influence long enough to steal Jazz away and effect the transfer, then returned so that he could confirm Jazz's loss to the others so that they would not come looking for him.

_Then_ he could die.

* * *

"Prime!"

Optimus sighed inwardly, hearing the unwelcome and strident call from the open doorway to the security office, but did stop walking.

"Yes, Red Alert?"

"They're at it _again_, Prime!" the agitated security officer complained. "How is anyone supposed to get any work done when this kind of thing is going on?"

"They only ever use their own offices." Bumblebee pointed out, easily guessing what was being discussed as he approached from the other direction. "And never when they're supposed to be on duty, so there's no reason why anyone should want to be in there anyway."

"That's not the point." Red Alert snapped. "They have private quarters for this kind of thing! It's obscene."

"Only if you're watching it." Bumblebee pointed out slyly. "And then I'd have to say that _that_ was obscene."

Red Alert spluttered, caught out, and Optimus took advantage of the distraction to slip away.

The whole issue of Jazz and Prowl using their offices for more than just work was something of a game between them and Red Alert, and he had no intention whatsoever of ending up mediating between them over it.

Red Alert had final say on internal security issues, as he should given his role, but the second and third officers had both indicated their displeasure with having their work spaces constantly under surveillance. There were reasonable arguments on both sides, but since they had been unable to resolve the issue amicably Jazz - at least for his own sanity he _hoped_ it was Jazz and not Prowl - had come up with the idea of scandalising the security director into deactivating those cameras.

Reaching the security of his own _unobserved_ office, he shut and locked the door, then leaned against it wearily. Sometimes he envied Megatron just a little. The Decepticon leader surely never had problems like these.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places, etc. belong to HasTak and other copyright holders. I make no profit from this.

* * *

Obsessed paced agitatedly, ignoring the jeers and snide comments from those around him. They thought they knew why he was upset, that it was because of the insults they had thrown about his earlier distraction which had caused him to be clipped with laser fire.

They were wrong. His own injuries were nothing, and his distraction had been caused by injury to an Autobot. Not to his precious Symphony, no, but to Prowl.

The stupid slagger had thrown himself between Megatron's high powered fusion cannon blast and his own temporarily downed leader. Optimus would surely not have been killed by that shot, he had survived worse before, so why had the stupid Autobot done such a thing?

It was not that Obsessed cared what happened to Prowl in the end, but if Prowl died _now_ there was a chance that Jazz might too. Bondmates tended to follow each other into death. Assuming they were bonded. And even if they were not, this kind of grief would still throw all his plans into disarray.

Scowling, he stomped away from the busy waiting area outside the Constructicons lab and headed towards his own room. The laser damage to his wing was minimal, and he needed to think.

* * *

Jazz looked up anxiously as First Aid walked past, but the Protectobot merely nodded to him gravely and moved on. He slumped in his chair, staring at the still-mangled form on the berth.

Several tense groons of surgery had saved Prowl's spark, but he was still stuck in stasis lock. Ratchet had declared him stable and had moved on to helping with other patients and Jazz could not begrudge him that, and yet the damage seemed so severe.

Prowl's left doorwing and arm had been torn off completely and would have to be re-fabricated. The heat of the blast had melted clumps of sand and dirt to his armour which looked ugly but was basically cosmetic once they managed to fabricate the replacement parts, but it had also torn many of his fluid lines and sensory systems which could easily take groons of painstaking repair.

He knew this. He knew that it was best for Prowl to be unaware at the moment, to not have to suffer through this online. But the silence at the other end of the bond was unnerving. He needed to _feel_ that Prowl was alright, and that would not happen until the stasis lock was broken.

So he sat and waited as patiently as he could, and he watched the medics silently but anxiously in hope they would soon return to finish the job they had started.

* * *

Strange, the things that could be inspirational, Obsessed mused as he scrolled through a document he had downloaded. Out of sheer frustration over the silence from the Autobot base on Prowl's condition and a complete lack of sightings of Jazz in more than an orn, he had found himself trawling boredly through the human internet while supposedly on comms duty. And there he had come across something fascinating.

He admitted that he did not entirely understand organics, nor did he have any wish to change that. They disgusted him in more ways than he wanted to even consider. Still, they occasionally showed small glimmers of potential. These documents, for example. He was not certain whether or not they were meant to be a factual recording of actual events or why there were so many variants on the theme, but they had given him some fascinating ideas.

In one, a _princess_ - a word for a particularly desirable mate, he assumed from context - was tricked into cutting herself on some sharp object which had been poisoned. The poison put her into such a deep stasis that nothing and no-one could waken her.

Oh sure, the story babbled about curses and blessings but he would happily leave that kind of nonsense to the stupid organics and soft-sparked Auto-dolts. What had clearly happened was someone had drugged the victim - likely the _prince_ who had conveniently turned up later to cure her.

There were multiple versions of what had happened next, but the earliest version was the one that intrigued him. Truly, these humans were a blood-thirsty lot. The _princess_ had been raped whilst in stasis, a new life had been created - twins, in fact! - and they had been extracted and activated before she came back online. Then the _prince_ had returned to sweet-talk her and they had ended up as a lifepair.

There was another tale that had caught his attention too, this time one of a poisoned fuel that had made everyone believe the victim - again a _princess_? - had died. Skipping over all the bits about the weird little organics singing nonsense songs, he found how she was reactivated later by a kiss from the _prince_.

Such interesting ideas, he mused, noting that his shift was ending. Things to think about. Yes indeed.

* * *

"Two breems." Ratchet glared at him. "After that I'm coming back in."

"I heard ya, doc."

"And he'll have no tactile sense - I'm not releasing the overrides."

"Gotcha."

"And don't let him get agitated."

"I won't."

"I mean it."

"This is Prowl, we're talking'bout, remember?" Jazz asked him impatiently. "Two _orns_ ain't long enough t'get him agitated, let alone two breems. Now, _please_?"

The medic huffed unhappily, but keyed some codes into the monitor by the berth then stomped out of the room. As the silence drew out Jazz tried not to fidget, watching anxiously for the first sign that Prowl was coming out of stasis, no matter how small. In the end, though, it was not a barely visible physical sign but a frightened gasp across the bond.

//Jazz!//

//I'm here, I'm right here.//

Panic flooded the bond, bourne of an overwhelming need to explain while there was time.

//I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I had to do it, Ironhide was too far away and Optimus couldn't move fast enough and Sunstreaker wasn't going to get there in time...//

//Shh, it's okay.// Jazz hushed him, projecting reassurance as strongly as he could and wishing that Prowl had enough physical sense to feel him holding his hand. //I understand. It's okay.//

The first wave of panic passed but a second one started to swell as he could feel Prowl trying to assess his own damage and failing.

//You're in the repair bay.// Jazz told him before the question could be asked. //Hatchet's been keepin' ya offline til he finishes the repairs, but it's takin' awhile an' I needed ya t'know you were okay.//

//You needed me to know I was okay?// Prowl echoed, confused.

Jazz smiled.

//Yeah. See, _I_ know you're okay, cause Ratch's takin' good care o'ya. But last thing _you_ remembered was bein' shot. If you'd come online wit'out me here an' not bein' fully active, y'mighta thought the worst.//

There was a moment of contemplative silence.

//Such as?//

//I dunno - seems you can always think o'somethin' worse than I'd ever dream up. An' Hatchet doesn't want ya panickin', so I had ta reassure ya. Right?//

//It's a good thing my logic processor is offline or you might have made me glitch.// Prowl sighed, his tone tinged with humour as he relaxed. //How is it I've been bonded to you all these vorns and still can't get you to understand basic logic?//

//Aw, Prowler, I understand it jus' fine. I jus' choose not t'use it, y'know? So. You gonna be okay?//

//I have it on the very best authority that I will.// Prowl told him drily.

//Then I'll go back t'work.// Jazz agreed. //Primus knows th'boss could use a hand now. But I'll be in t'check on ya regularly. An' when y'get your sensors back again, I'll give ya a proper wake up kiss but this'll have t'do til then.//

He leaned over to kiss Prowl's slack lips, projecting the sensations through the bond.

"Jazz!"

He jerked back in startlement, then glared at the medic.

"That was never two full breems." he complained.

"Two breems from the moment I paused the stasis program." Ratchet told him unapologetically.

//Gotta go, Prowler. You need your rest.//

//He sounds irritated. Do you need me to defend you?//

//Wish y'could.// Jazz sighed wistfully, then clamped down before he could project the depth of sincerity behind the statement and make Prowl worry. //See ya soon.//

Prowl's response was emotional only, the program taking hold again and stopping all active processes. Then there was nothing again. Sighing aloud regretfully, Jazz settled Prowl's hand back on the berth with a final fond pat then headed for the door.

"Where are _you_ going?" Ratchet called.

"Back to work." Jazz called over his shoulder. "Can't shirk off forever, right?"

* * *

Ensuring he was present for Laserbeak's report was not difficult. Half the crew were there, and their numbers helped to conceal his reactions as the details he had been itching to hear were revealed.

Prowl was seriously injured indeed, but stable. He was being kept offline until the repairs could be completed, but they were delayed while new parts were being fabricated from scratch - not an easy task since the Autobots had no access to Cybertron and most of the Earth substitute materials were inferior. Jazz had been standing vigil at his side ever since the battle, but now for no reason Laserbeak had been able to determine he had resumed his normal routine even though Prowl was still badly hurt.

That point was debated briefly then dismissed as the cassette continued with some details about Perceptor and Wheeljack and a new device, but Obsessed stopped listening. This was too good an opportunity to ignore. It was earlier than he had planned, but could he afford to waste the chance this offered?

Right now, Prowl was out of the way and there was no-one to blame for that but Prowl himself. Nothing to raise anyone's suspicions. And Jazz had returned to work.

He smiled to himself. What perfect timing! He had only just completed work on the hideaway bunker, and the virus was ready to go. He had seduced Mixmaster - an unpleasant but necessary part of the preparations - and collected the compound he needed to ensure things went his way, and the chemist did not know enough to know how his concoction was going to be used.

This was going to be perfect: all he had to do was be ready for the next battle.

* * *

A/N: the fairytales referenced here are _Sleeping Beauty_ and _Snow White_, though it's the early 1830s Grimm version of _Dornroschen_ which involved a rose thorn rather than a spindle and some rather dubious actions on the part of the "Prince Charming", not the more recent sanitised Disney-esque _Sleeping Beauty _- trust me, they're very different.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places, etc. belong to HasTak and other copyright holders. I make no profit from this.

* * *

Jazz yelped and rolled awkwardly as a something hard hit his ankle, but stumbled onwards until he reached shelter behind a boulder a few steps away.

"Not very graceful." he murmured ruefully to himself, taking a few clicks to assess the damage.

To his surprise it was some kind of projectile which had lodged itself in the side of his foot. If it had hit just a fraction higher it might have torn vital connections between leg and pede.

He pried it out and raised his arm to toss it away, then noticed the needle-like protusion at the tip and the circuitry within. His armour had blocked it, but if it had hit somewhere less well shielded it might have downloaded whatever program it was running - almost certainly a virus.

"What the slag?" he muttered.

Who here used this kind of weapon? He absently started to reach out to a particular comm line that was always active in battle, aware that this was exactly the kind of information that needed to be known urgently, then winced when he made no connection. Of course, Prowl was still offline in the repair bay. It would have to wait.

He lowered his hand intending to subspace it to show Prowl later, but he was unexpectedly tackled by Rumble and knocked to the ground, the cone-shaped bullet dropping into the mud.

And then there was another stinging sensation, this time in his shoulder just below the wheel, and he realised he was in serious trouble.

* * *

Obsessed yelled and cheered along with the others, maintaining his cover role, but also watched tensely as the 'deceased' Autobot's frame was thrown about. This was the riskiest part of the whole venture: the Autobots were devastated and unpredictable; Megatron was elated and thus equally unpredictable. If they ended up leaving the shell here, or if one of the others damaged it too badly, or if the Autobots managed to rally enough to get it back, he would lose everything.

But no. Megatron was quite willing to accept this trophy in lieu of the energon they had been failing to obtain and called for an immediate and triumphant return to the Nemesis.

It was a sensible call, really. Apart from this, the battle had not gone at all well, and grieving Autobots tended to be even more vicious than usual so it was best to let them cool off before facing them again. Give them time to dwell on it and morale would drop.

Starscream was given the task of carrying the corpse, which he immediately delegated to Thundercracker, and with a few final gloating comments to the devastated Autobots they were on their way.

* * *

Optimus stared at the sky, numbed.

It had all happened unbearably fast. He had not even been aware that Jazz had been isolated and in need of backup because with Prowl offline there was none of their usual coordination on the battlefield.

Prowl. Someone was going to have to tell him. If they were truly bonded he would already know but he would likely still want details. And he would want Jazz's body out of Decepticon hands.

Unbelievable that it had been _Rumble_. Just what had the minicon done? Was this some new kind of weapon at work, and if so how would they protect themselves from now on? Jazz had fought the cassettes thousands of times without needing help - why was this time different?

Of course, none of it really mattered. The 'why' never mattered. Over the vorns he had lost more friends and allies than he cared to consider, and knowing why had never helped in the slightest. The war went on.

"Autobots!" he called, cutting implacably through their own reactions and drawing their attention. "We will regroup at the Ark and debrief. Transform and roll out."

* * *

Obsessed smirked to himself. Everyone was so very predictable. Their victory today was celebrated by the drinking of obscene quantities of high grade which would lead to short rations tomorrow, but currently no-one cared.

Jazz's greyed frame had been put on display in the comms room where it would show up as a taunt every time Megatron called the Ark. That had been his own humble suggestion and Megatron had approved of the idea, leading to a small competition amongst several others on how many excuses they could use to make those calls and tease the Autobots with that image.

"You're not staying here, though." he murmured to the still, grey form, running his hands possessively over the chassis he had admired from afar. "We'll be away soon."

"Aw, ew, Blitzwing, that's disgusting!" Ramjet complained from the doorway, his words badly slurred. "I didn't know you were one of _those_."

Obsessed's plans were quickly thrown behind heavy firewalls and it was Blitzwing who turned to look at the jet.

"What do you care?"

"Not much, but it's still icky."

"So go away and don't watch."

"'m on duty." the jet told him sullenly. "Screamer'll throw a fit if I shirk."

"What if I do it for you?"

Ramjet peered at him suspiciously.

"You're taking a shift voluntarily? Why? What're you up to?"

Blitzwing grunted in exasperation, hoping he could pull this off. Killing Ramjet was not in his plans - it would make things messy.

"Whaddaya think? I wanna prong the dead Autobot!"

Ramjet relaxed.

"Whatever. But I'm not doing your shift tomorrow."

He flounced off and Blitzwing - Obsessed - sighed in relief.

"Now, if there are no more interruptions, we can get started."

* * *

"Bring him online."

"Can't this wait?"

"No. He needs to know."

"And how will _that_ help?"

"Prolonging this won't help anyone. If they were bonded he will not live much longer in any case, regardless of what you do."

The medic put his face in his hands, hating to admit defeat. The commander put a comforting hand on his shoulder but the medic shrugged it off.

"Give me a joor. I can get him up on his pedes so he can at least move about. I'll seal off the stumps and leave it at that."

"One joor. No longer."

"Fine. Now get out of my bay."

* * *

"Symphony? You're online? Thank Primus!"

If he was a little too vehement, that was Mixmaster's fault. The antivirus had taken hold two groons ago, but he had feared that the now-heavily-drugged mech might never online at all. He would have to take more care with the dosage.

"Whaddid you say?"

"When I realised you'd been hurt I was so scared!"

"Wait, wait!" the invalid begged, sitting up and staring about. "Who are you? Where am I?"

"It's alright, Sym, it's me - Stanchion. Come on, you know me. Your partner? Your bondmate?"

That drew a sharp look.

"_Bonded_? But... wait... I'm confused..."

"Listen. You went undercover into the Autobots, remember? Used the name 'Jazz'. But then their ship crashed and you got stranded on Earth and something went screwy with your programming. But it's okay, I've got you out."

Jazz peered at him doubtfully.

"My mem'ry's all messed up. How do I know you're tellin' me the truth?"

"Because I love you?"

He leaned forward for the kiss he had been dreaming of for all too long, and it was glorious. Now if he could just seduce Jazz into a spark sharing session, he could subvert the bond that he had now confirmed was there. Once he had exposed the truth that 'Jazz' had spent so long trying to conceal, and taken the mech he loved for himself, they could leave Earth together and never return.

* * *

Prowl's optics dimmed and stayed dull for several breems.

"No." he said finally.

"No?"

"I don't believe it."

Ratchet frowned. This was not amongst the reactions he had predicted.

"He's gone, Prowl." he confirmed. "I saw the necrosis myself."

"Then you must have been fooled." Prowl told him coolly.

There was a long pause as hope warred with the truth and Ratchet and Optimus stared at each other wondering what to believe.

"You are truly bonded then?" Optimus asked eventually. "You can still feel him alive?"

Prowl's remaining doorwing trembled.

"No."

No to the bond, or no to the sense of him, Ratchet wondered. And then Prowl curled forward and began to keen brokenly.

* * *

Jazz pulled away, shaking his head.

"Stop. Just... just slow down, okay?"

"But you'll feel better when it's done." Stanchion coaxed him. "It'll end the confusion, remind you who you really are."

"This Symphony guy?" Jazz asked dubiously.

"Yes. That's you."

"And your name's Stanchion?"

"Yes. Come lie down with me at least. You're exhausted, I can tell."

"I need a charging port, not a good lay." Jazz grumbled, retreating a little further.

"I've told you already, we can't leave Earth just yet, and the only places on this planet with proper facilities are the Ark and the Nemesis. One side thinks you're their enemy and the other..."

"Thinks I'm their friend." Jazz nodded. "I know, and you say I'm not. But what if I am and you're just tryin' t'get somethin' outta me?"

"Look, you asked to know how you could trust me. Do this and you'll know. Please, Sym. I'm trying to help you."

Jazz folded his arms tightly across his chest.

"Just... give me some time, okay?" he asked. "I need t'think."

Obsessed smiled warmly, secure in the knowledge that he had sufficient stores of Mixmaster's drug that it would not matter how long this took.

"Sure. Whatever you need, love."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places, etc. belong to HasTak and other copyright holders. I make no profit from this.

* * *

The images stopped and Teletraan's main screen went blank. He could feel them all waiting for him to acknowledge the truth of what he had been told, but he could not. Not yet.

"Rumble could not have done this. Not alone."

"We figure he used some kinda new weapon." Ironhide explained.

"Play it again."

Blaster winced.

"Prowl, man, you've seen it five times already..."

"And I wish to see it a sixth."

The first three times he had been utterly transfixed by it and had taken in no details at all, but now he was trying to see past that into what had actually occurred.

It was not as though the recording was of much help. It had been cobbled together from the memory files of various mechs on the field, showing every glimpse of Jazz and Rumble and the location of the alleged slaying that they could muster. Sometimes there were multiple angles of the same moment, other times there was nothing at all.

Playback resumed and Prowl muted his vocaliser, fighting the urge to whimper as he caught flashes of Jazz in battle.

The fight had been going well, Jazz looking as confident and competent as ever. Then the outcropping he had temporarily taken shelter behind was blasted away and he had dashed off towards another pile of boulders. There was a jarring transition when no-one had been looking in his direction for about a click, and then an oblique angle out of focus showing him nearly at his goal. Nearly at his final destination, in fact.

"Pause."

Striding forward, he peered at the screen. There was something here that looked off.

"Replay from the start of this segment, quarter speed."

Slower, the black and white blur made a three step dash for cover.

"Again." he ordered. "Slower."

There was something different there. The poor resolution was hampering him, but... ah, there. The second step was a different movement than it should have been. And the first was from a strange angle.

"Again." he asked more softly, almost squinting at the grainy image, using all the filters in his optics to check on what he thought he had seen.

Yes, there it was. And this time he could identify it.

"Back to the previous sequence. This speed."

"Prowl, this footage quality is so poor you'll get little from it." Red Alert pointed out.

He ignored the security director, watching intently, then jabbed a finger at the screen.

"Pause! There. That's the first clue."

The others looked at each other.

"It's just a blob." Bumblebee told him apologetically.

"It's a _small_ blob." Prowl corrected him, then elaborated. "He's rising from a crouch, favouring one leg. He was not injured in the previous segment, but he is here and it happened in the point eight two clicks that we cannot see."

* * *

"What do you mean he's not on base?"

"I mean we can't find him." Thundercracker admitted, trotting alongside his angry wingleader. "He might still be here, but he's not anywhere he normally goes."

"Why's this our problem anyway?" Skywarp asked from Starscream's other side as they swept down the hall. "I mean, he was the last one in there, it's his responsibility. Ramjet saw him."

"Ramjet was so drunk yesterday he ended up in Dead End's berth - he's hardly a reliable witness!"

Skywarp sniggered, easily dodging Starscream's distracted swat in his direction.

"Moron. Morons. I'm surrounded by morons."

"But Star, Megatron's not even angry. What's the problem?"

"The Autobots managed to get in here and waltz around as they pleased. Sometime soon his insufferable lordship is going to come down off his victory high and realise someone should be punished for letting them do that."

"Well that's Blitzwing's problem."

"Only until he checks the duty logs and sees it was meant to be Ramjet on duty."

"But Blitzwing offered..." Thundercracker began, then recoiled quickly as Starscream stopped and spun about menacingly.

"Blitzwing _offered_? To do a duty shift he hadn't been assigned? The triples don't offer to do _anything_. _Ever_. Ramjet should have come to _me_."

"But you were..." Skywarp began, then cut himself off as Starscream scowled at him.

"Yes?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"He should've come to me, and our notoriously intolerant leader will make a meal of that. We need Blitzwing to be here to take that fall because otherwise he'll put it on all of us. If we're lucky, he'll only cut the Seeker rations again. _If_ we're lucky."

"But they're already too low!" Skywarp yelped.

"And _that's_ why we have to find Blitzwing!" Starscream snarled at him, then turned away. "Or rather, why _you_ do. I'll keep Megatron out of the way and see if I can get you some data on where he went. Now get out there and start looking - _and don't come back without him!_"

* * *

Jazz wandered through the tunnels, running his fingers lightly over the walls that had been hewn out of the stone to match their dimensions. Specifically to his captor's dimensions - a taller mech would still have to stoop.

It made him uneasy. Why had Stanchion - Blitzwing? - made an underground hideaway in the first place? It seemed so elaborate. Yes, he understood that it was a good hiding place because most of the Decepticons were fliers, and fliers tended to be claustrophobic, but it also did a good job of masking their energy patterns so the Autobots could not track them either.

He stopped, pressing his hands hard against his helm and running a barrage of diagnostic and query programs to try to realign his memories into a coherent form so he could try to figure this out. It did not work any better than his many other attempts, and he sighed and walked on.

Stanchion insisted that he had been undercover in the Autobot army using the name Jazz. The plan had supposedly been to seduce the Autobot tactician and second in command, a mech named Prowl, and to find locations for Neutrals to hide where the Autobots would not find them. Stanchion was doing much the same on the Decepticon side under the name Blitzwing.

Those names - Jazz, Blitzwing, Prowl - were familiar. And while he felt no connection with 'Symphony' or 'Stanchion', he felt tiny tugs of longing every time he thought of Prowl, even though he could not currently match the name with a face or form.

Was that really because his memory had been damaged in the Ark's crash and so had been living the part of Prowl's lover in truth without knowing the lie? Stanchion said so, but then he had been on the Decepticon side and maybe this whole thing was a hoax? But why? Why bother? With his memory like this, what could he possibly have that a Decepticon could want? Unless Stanchion was telling the truth.

Troubled, processor aching as he ran yet another set of diagnostics, he paced on.

* * *

Prowl stalked around the planning table where he had set up the scenario. He would prefer to have been left alone to think this through but everyone seemed concerned that he might suddenly attempt to kill himself the moment they turned their backs, hence his audience.

They were being hypocritical, he thought distantly as he adjusted the position of a marker minutely so that it was better placed. On the one hand they were concerned that he was not accepting Jazz's death; on the other they seemed almost annoyed that he was taking it so well.

He paused, staring at the set up but not seeing it. The problem was, he did not know what to think.

He and Jazz _were_ bonded. Had been for a long time now, though they enjoyed the game of leaving the others to wonder. When Optimus had told him the bad news he had nearly laughed at him : of course Jazz was not dead, there would have been pain from the moment he onlined if that were the case. Right now he was getting nothing so it could not be true.

But what if he were wrong? What if his being in stasis at the time had shielded him from the initial pain? What if it had left him in some kind of limbo, unaware? Or worse, what if all those tales of bondmates' grief and pain were simply romantic notions to explain the voluntary suicide of the surviving partner?

He had to see Jazz for himself. He had to know. And he had to understand how it could have happened.

"Prowl?" Optimus queried, putting a hand on his good shoulder. "Do you need to rest?"

He pulled away, refocusing and beginning to talk through the scenario.

"Jazz's cover here was destroyed by a blast from Devastator's cannon which originated here. The angle meant the rock was obliterated but Jazz was unharmed as he saw the shot coming and moved back to here. At this point he was in the open. We know he moved in a zigzag pattern between these two points, pausing here to shoot at Soundwave and again here to shoot at Ramjet. After reaching this point we have almost a full click of no direct data. When our footage resumes he is at this point and limping. Having analysed the footage carefully I believe it was his right leg that sustained the damage, probably one of the lower joints..."

"Is this going somewhere?" Cliffjumper interrupted him impatiently. "Aren't we supposed to be planning a raid to retrieve what's left of him? We can sort out all the rest of this stuff later."

"The risk level is currently too high for a retrieval mission." Red Alert asserted.

"But what if Prowl's right?" Bluestreak implored. "What if he's still alive?"

"We saw him grey." Sunstreaker pointed out.

"But sometimes a mech can hold on..."

"For a few clicks, maybe a breem." First Aid said grimly. "Not groons or joors."

"The point I am trying to make," Prowl put in before the argument got any worse, "is that he was _not_ injured by the Decepticons. At least, not the ones we were fighting."

"What?" Trailbreaker frowned, peering at the model. "How do you get that?"

"He was on the far edge of the conflict. The Seekers were over by the power generators, as were all but two of the cassetticons. Rumble was approaching from here - his shot of Jazz was obscured by this outcropping at this stage. Laserbeak was trying to distract Ironhide from assisting Prime who was fighting Megatron. Defensor was holding off Devastator. There was no-one behind Jazz, yet that was the trajectory of the attack that injured him."

There was a moment of silence and he stared at the board again. There was something in this, some faint thread of certainty that he could not shake and could not define. A final message from Jazz, perhaps?

"The possibility of another enemy is alarming." Optimus agreed finally. "But it changes nothing. Who was responsible does not change the fact that Jazz is no longer with us. I'm sorry, Prowl. He's gone."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places, etc. belong to HasTak and other copyright holders. I make no profit from this.

Warning: dub-con

* * *

It had been the best part of a joor before Jazz abruptly gave in. He gave no reason for his capitulation, just flung himself down on the ground and downed two full cubes of energon then grunted his consent.

Rechecking his own firewalls, Stanchion sank down beside him. Getting this part right was vital. Mixmaster had warned that stressed systems could start to degrade the formula he had concocted, and accepting that such a clever cover could have been blown after so many vorns of working flawlessly would undoubtedly be stressful. Physical exertion would only speed that along.

When they began to interface Symphony must not find anything to contradict what he had been told. There was too much risk of him ignoring Stanchion's love for him entirely in favour of his existing relationship. Once they had completed the bond there could be nothing hidden and he would know the full truth, but he would also be helpless to avoid that truth in its entirely: the fact that Stanchion really had loved him from a distance all those vorns ago, that he really had been searching for him all this time. That that love was spark deep, and not some shallow trick.

Feeling sure of his preparations he reached out to caress Symphony's helm, wanting to find out if the stubby sensory horns were as sensitive as his research suggested they should be, but his soon-to-be mate shied away.

"Jus' get on wit'it an' open up already. There'll be time for th'other later if yer tellin' me th'truth."

Stanchion lowered his hand, smiling at him soothingly.

"Of course. Whatever you wish, love."

* * *

Prowl watched from a short distance away as Hound first holographed the scene then began carefully reading the tracks left behind. He swayed a little in the breeze, his equilibrium easily disrupted with one arm and doorwing still missing, and he was grateful when Smokescreen moved closer to stabilise him.

Optimus had initially turned down his request to view the battle site, pointing out that he was too badly injured to be permitted off base. It had been Smokescreen who had convinced him, arguing a need for some form of closure given that they had no body to mourn over. Prowl was not sure what to make of that argument himself, not sure what he believed or felt right at the moment, but it convinced Prime and that was an acceptable outcome no matter the means.

"Look at this!" Hound declared, striding over to them.

His words brought Prowl out of his daze and he found he was now seated on the ground in the shade of a nearby cliff. When had he dropped into standby?

"What is it?" Optimus asked.

"I'm not sure, Prime. Looks a bit like a projectile, but with some kind of circuitry inside. The circuit's dead, though."

"Some kind of human item?" Ironhide asked.

"Looks Cybertronian to me." Wheeljack offered. "It's nearly as big as Spike's head, and there are traces of mech paint on it."

Prowl rose awkwardly, testing his balance before attempting to step over to the others.

"Perhaps Perceptor can decipher the programming." he mused. "I think we..." He paused, confused as something seemed to _shift_ somehow, then shook off the feeling and tried to continue. "I think we should consider... I... I... J-jazz?"

Something was wrong. An unpleasant pressure building in his chest. And then there was an explosion of pain and he screamed in denial as he felt his connection to Jazz wither away into nothing.

* * *

No! No, this was wrong. He was bonded to _Prowl_, the mech he loved more than anything in existence. The shock of the connection forming had cleared his mind and he remembered everything. And knew everything.

_No!_ He shied away from the knowledge he did not want. Away from the truth of Blitzwing's plans and the depth of the other mech's emotions, away from the realisation that Prowl would now be suffering as badly as if he had died. Would perhaps even take his own life.

//Symphony! It's okay! I'm here!//

His new bondmate was insane, Jazz shivered. Symphony - the mech the triple-changer was so deeply obsessed with - was dead, and had been for millennia. He had died during the takeover of Vos.

Blitzwing himself had shot the singer in the chaos, not realising who it was, and then had gone into denial over it. Over time that denial had turned to madness, and in his madness he had split into three separate personalities. All of it was clear in Blitzwing's own memories, now revealed through the connection between them, but the mech himself could not access all three aspects at one time.

//I'm not him!// Jazz cried out as forcefully as he could.

//Yes you are. You're the same build, just different features. And you're a musician. You've been too scared to sing in case it gave you away, but it's okay now. I know the truth.//

//I used to sing _in a_ _band_.// Jazz retorted, thrusting the memories at his enemy-now-bondmate. //The others died and I haven't sung since, but it's because I don't _want_ to. Because singing's a peacetime thing and I'm not who I was back then. But I never went to Vos before the war started and I've never composed _anything_. I'm _not_ Symphony. I'm _Jazz_.//

There was a pause, then a welling of fury as compassionate Stanchion receded and ruthless Obsessed took over.

//You lie.//

* * *

"Prime?"

Perceptor's quiet call brought him out of his reverie and he turned his head.

"Yes?"

"I've completed the analysis. It seems..."

He hesitated and Optimus nodded grimly.

"It feigns necrosis."

"Yes." the scientist confessed. "I've never seen anything like it. It is simply astonishing..."

"Thank you, Perceptor, that will be all."

"Prime, you must realise that even if we find him now..."

"That will be all."

The scientist left and Optimus stared at the pad that held the details he had feared to find. If only he had believed Prowl, if only he had trusted and taken the chance that there was a faint hope, Jazz might have been rescued. It would have been risky but it had been worth the attempt. Now it was too late.

Sighing tiredly, he rose and paced over to the comm panel. He had sent everyone out of the command centre so he could think about this, but he had had enough of thinking. Wasting time was what had led to this tragedy. He had to get Jazz's body back. Prowl deserved that much, to be able to see Jazz's shell one last time and say goodbye.

Megatron would not want to give it up, of course: it was now a trophy for the enemy. But he could be bribed. After all, a dead Autobot shell was not worth much once the celebrations were over. The fact that Prime wanted it back would raise the value, but not out of reach.

He squared his shoulders, preparing. They could afford six ganra of energon - more than ten times the most the Decepticons had yet taken on any raid here on Earth. Plus, if needed, two ganra of high grade, some medical supplies and some other sundry items.

He bowed his head for a moment. He knew precisely, down to the last screw, what they could afford because of Prowl's diligence; he knew what it would cost to achieve this thanks to Jazz's off-duty chats about bartering with the enemy. Today he had lost half of that support, and the other half was failing fast.

Straightening, he stepped forward and resolutely opened the channel to the Nemesis. There was a brief pause, then Megatron appeared. The warlord looked relaxed.

"Ah, Prime. Calling to gloat?"

Gloat? Not a term that made sense in this context so he remained silent in the hope that more clues would be forthcoming.

"Still, what did you gain?" Megatron shrugged. "A greyed shell? Not very valuable in the scheme of things, is it? It won't bring back your annoying third in command. Have you smelted it yet?"

Megatron thought they had already retrieved Jazz? But he had only just despatched the team a short while ago - there had been no time for them to even arrive at the Nemesis.

"You _will_ pay for this, Megatron." he intoned, trying to stall for time to think.

"Oh so it's just posturing, is it." Megatron asked boredly. "Well I'm not sure I have time for that. You've made your point, now go away."

The line cut off and Optimus stared at the blackened screen. If Megatron did not have him, then where was Jazz?

* * *

Jazz sobbed as he crawled painfully away from his unconscious captor, his unwanted bondmate.

Blitzwing had taken it badly that Jazz was not who he had thought and had torn through his memories heedless of the pain he was causing, determined to find memories that simply did not exist. Then he had beaten him physically, shouting over and over that Jazz was lying to him.

Shock had initially left Jazz helpless during the assault: the realisation of what had happened; the insanity seeping into his own mind from the new connection; the knowledge that he could not kill Blitzwing without killing himself too. But he was adaptable - had to be to survive in his line of work - and so he regained control first of himself, then of the bond.

Blitzwing was physically more powerful, and was certainly more angry, but Jazz had been bonded to Prowl for megavorns while Blitzwing had only fantasised of the connection. Experience from the occasional unintended consequence over that time now allowed him to act in ways that he never would have with his true love, ways that Blitzwing had no concept of and could not defend against.

With deft twists of the connection he forced Blitzwing to confront the contradictions of his own thought patterns and reflected and amplified all the physical pain Blitzwing had caused him and looped the sensations so there was no surcease. Then he had closed down the bond connection as tightly as he could before finally pouring every last drop of the mixture Blitzwing had been using to keep him confounded into the triple-changer's backup fuel port.

Crawling onwards, he knew that it was unlikely this would end well but was unable to keep from trying. He had to get back to the Ark, back to Prowl before his lover decided to kill himself in his grief. Had to find a way to undo what Blitzwing had done.

If he was lucky the reversal would kill Blitzwing in the process, and that was a very satisfactory price. But first he had to get back, and since his comms system had been disabled and his navigation destroyed he had no way of calling for help or even knowing if he was heading in the right direction.

"But I ain't stayin' here." he croaked to himself, dragging himself forward with his arms. "I'm comin' Prowler. Wait for me, okay? I'm comin'."

* * *

Bluestreak shivered as he watched Prowl purging all the energon First Aid had just carefully fed in through his backup fuel port. The grieving tactician was all but lost to them; not eating, not resting, not aware of his surroundings. Even the purging had little effect on him: the viscous, half-processed slop dribbling down his chin and into his lap in a steady stream.

A couple of times he had stirred, groaning, and made some effort to control himself. But then he would sob and hug himself again, and lose focus.

"He's not keeping anything in." First Aid reported worriedly to Ratchet who had just returned. "I think his fuel processing system has shut down, but I can't get a clear diagnostic reading to be sure."

"His entire system's in flux." Ratchet agreed grimly. "It happens when a bond breaks and the best we can do is keep him warm and clean and keep trying. He'll pull through this or he won't, but it's all up to him: there's nothing anyone else can do that will make a difference."

* * *

Jazz paused, feeling dizzy, and leaned heavily against the cliff face. He was exhausted, mentally conflicted from the bond transfer, physically damaged from the attacks, and woefully underfuelled. By all rights he should just collapse where he stood. At least then he would get some benefit from the sunlight.

"Prowl." he muttered, pushing away and onwards. "'m comin' Prowler. Jus' hold on. Please."

He did not know where he was, and it had taken him far too long to break out of the sealed bunker Blitzwing had built, but he was moving. He had to get home, had to get back to Prowl. He was too damaged to transform, but he limped along one step following another, praying he would arrive in time.

* * *

Hound looked at his two companions dubiously. Prime had called for them to head back inland to search for Jazz, Cosmos having apparently tracked Blitzwing to somewhere in this area - the only Decepticon to leave the Nemesis since Jazz's death. It was their best and only lead on where Jazz's frame was, but so far there was nothing to be found.

"Anything?" Blaster asked.

He shook his head.

"Nothing. I'm getting nothing at all."

"Same." Blaster sighed. "He's either being really quiet, and I don't buy it, or he's gone, gone, gone."

"So now what?" Hound asked. "Raj?"

Mirage was distracted, staring down the hill and over to one side amongst the trees.

"Raj?" Hound repeated.

"I saw movement. Light glinting off metal."

"Where?"

"Let's go look." Blaster suggested.

Hound kept his optics focused as they headed down, following Mirage, and then stopped as he spotted something.

"Energon!" he declared, pointing to a drying smear on a rock.

"Blitzwing's injured?" Blaster frowned. "How'd that happen?"

Mirage had gone on a few steps and suddenly stiffened in shock. Hound took a step towards him, but then Mirage was moving, running, diving into the undergrowth heedless of the spectacle he was making of himself.

"What's up?" Blaster asked. "He spot him?"

"I don't rightly know. It's not like Raj to..."

~Blaster! Call the Ark, we need Ratchet here now! I've found Jazz and he's _alive_.~

* * *

Prowl heard the commotion around him distantly, but ignored it. The only thing that was real was this pain, this emptiness. Jazz was... was gone...

The thought made him sob, and sobbing hurt in a different way to the other pain. A subroutine tried to alert him to some physical issues, something urgent since it took a concentrated effort to shut the warning down, but he did not care. It did not matter. Nothing mattered.

He shivered as he registered someone trying to tell him Jazz was alive.

How cruel that was. Before, when he had been uncertain, they had been uniform in insisting Jazz had perished. What nastiness now compelled them to deny him the right to grieve? And who did they think they were fooling? He had _felt_ the bond tear. It was the most hideous experience he had ever endured.

No, there was no mistake. Jazz was dead. The only remaining question was when he would follow. He prayed it might be soon.

* * *

Jazz was in a bad way, Mirage noted as he and Hound helped him up the hill to a clearing where Skyfire could land and collect them. The Valkyrie jet was on his way courtesy of Blaster, and the comms mech was keeping up a running commentary for the others back at the Ark.

Reaching the edge of the treeline they stopped to wait, but Jazz was restless.

"Easy there." Hound hushed him when he struggled to crawl on by himself. "Help'll be here in a breem."

"Gotta get t'Prowl." Jazz muttered, twitching and staring out at the horizon. "'Fore he does somethin' final."

"They're telling him you're okay." Blaster assured him, crouching down to re-examine his wounds. "Well, mostly okay."

"He won't believe them." Jazz fretted. "Mightn't even believe _me_. I have t'_be_ there..."

"You'll get there a good deal faster by waiting for Skyfire." Mirage pointed out.

Jazz nodded reluctantly.

"Yeah, I know. Just... just need t'be there. Time's runnin' out."

"What did happen?" Hound asked curiously. "We figured out the necrosis part, but why's Prowl so convinced you're dead?"

Jazz shivered but did not respond to the question.

"Gotta be there. Gotta get to Prowl."

Mirage exchanged a grim look with the others, then looked up as a signal reached him.

"Here's Skyfire. Lets go."

* * *

"Don't see why this is _our_ problem anyway." Skywarp grumbled. "Like to see Starscream crawling around down here. He's the one who wants him back, not us. Straxus he's heavy!"

Thundercracker ignored his complaints, peering curiously into the shadows.

"What do you suppose he was doing here underground?"

"No idea. And the sooner _we're_ out of it, the better."

"Some kind of suicide attempt, maybe? But why here? And why go to all the trouble of making a hideout that would block tracking signals only to leave the door wide open?"

"I. Don't. Care. Seriously, TC, if you don't gimme a hand with him in a few clicks I'm gonna warp outta here and leave you to do it alone."

Thundercracker gave him an irritated look but at least started paying attention. Between them they managed to drag the stasis-locked triple-changer out into the open.

"He's still crackling." Thundercracker observed, shaking his hands to get rid of the transferred charge. "You think he's got a thing going with an Auto-dolt?"

Skywarp began to retort, then paused.

"Didn't Ramjet say he found him cuddling up to the empty shell?"

Thundercracker shuddered.

"Ugh, that's disgusting."

"Yeah. I thought he was just overenergised, but maybe... hey, maybe the Autobots _didn't_ get their friend back. Maybe Blitzwing took him."

"Then where is he now? What happened?"

Skywarp shrugged.

"Beats me. But at least _I'm_ not the one having to explain the whole thing to Megs."

"Come on then." Thundercracker declared, leaning down again.

"What's the rush?"

His trinemate smirked evilly.

"If we get him back quick enough, he might _still_ be crackling. Then he can't even blame us for dobbing him in."

Skywarp grinned back.

"TC, you're a mech after my own spark."


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places, etc. belong to HasTak and other copyright holders. I make no profit from this.

* * *

Jazz was quite literally unable to walk unaided, was in fact in a highly critical condition in spite of the repairs that had been done en route, but he insisted that he had to go straight to Prowl and that it could not wait for anything.

It was against Ratchet's programming to delay treatment for a mech in such an unstable condition, but he also knew that they were out of time with Prowl. The tactician's systems had seized up and he was no longer responding to any external stimulus. They had basically lost him, and this was the only faint chance they had of getting him back.

So he said nothing as Skyfire carried Jazz's broken frame along the crowded corridors and to the quarters he had long shared with Prowl. And he said nothing as the crowd thronged around to watch what was sure to be a very emotional reunion.

Emotional it certainly was; pleasant it was not.

Prowl had responded the moment he first heard Jazz's voice, but not in welcome. In horror. He was convinced that Jazz was an imposter and had pressed himself back against the wall in terror, shrieking for Jazz to go away.

How that would have gone next was anyone's guess, but the lack of energy due to his complete fuel purge meant that this sudden burst of activity took a high toll and he was soon reduced to tired whimpers.

"Please, Prowler." Jazz was begging now, sounding on the brink of stasis himself. "I know what yer feelin' an' I know what y'think it means, but it really is me. Please lemme explain."

"I don't know you. I don't know you. Go away. Jazz is dead. I felt him die. Go away. I don't..."

He stopped abruptly, the light fading from his optics, and Jazz cried out in fright but Ratchet caught him as he lunged forward.

"Easy, he's just dropped offline. First Aid, get him settled with a fuel line since his systems are running again for the moment, but keep him offline. Skyfire, bring Jazz to the bay."

"No, I have to stay." Jazz protested faintly.

"You've had it your way, now we do it mine. You can come back when you're not going to drop into stasis in the next breem."

* * *

"How in the pit did he get himself into such a mess?"

"These CPU readings are insane. It's like there're parts of his system running independently. Parts of his _memory_ _centres_, even."

"Always said triple-changers were crazy. This just proves it."

"I don't care if he thinks he's the pit-spawned Unmaker, memory glitches don't cause this kind of damage and they don't cause stasis. I want to know why he's still offline. Any ideas?"

"Some Bots beat him up?"

"Why didn't they just kill him then?"

"How should I know?"

"It doesn't explain the stasis."

"Some kind of f-fluid poisoning, maybe?" Mixmaster offered reluctantly.

"It's a start." Scrapper nodded. "Take some samples and test them. Scavenger, go ask the Seekers if there were any unusual fluid containers around when they found him. Right. Now what about _this_?"

Mixmaster relaxed slightly as his brethren turned their attention to one of the more physical injuries. It had taken him only a moment to analyse the compound found in Blitzwing's systems and identify it as one of his own, but he had to pretend to work on it for much longer since such an analysis would usually take time.

Why had the triplechanger used it on himself? And why in such a massive dose? Mixmaster had made his instructions very clear on the dosages, why had Blitzwing ignored that? And why ask for it in the first place? That last was a question he wished he had thought to ask earlier.

Annoyed, and determined not to be considered part of this fiasco, he began devising a solvent. Something to remove all traces of the compound. He would slip it to Blitzwing and disavow all knowledge and that would be that.

* * *

Optimus stared at Jazz, dumbfounded by the series of events that had occurred.

"Ratchet?" he asked eventually. "Have you ever heard of anything like this?"

"I've heard of trines swapping partners. And linked pairs swapping around. But a full bond? Never."

"Well it happened." Jazz said morosely. "First time in more'n a megavorn I've been that close t'Prowl an' not able t'_know _it's him. It's so creepy. No wonder he doesn't believe me."

"He believes enough to hope." Ratchet pointed out gruffly. "If he didn't he'd've just faded away without even noticing you."

"But what do I _do_?" Jazz moaned. "I'm bonded to Blitzwing. I don't even know if I can replicate what he did to me, but even if I can I need t'get Prowl to let me try. He has to accept it - it can't be forced." He shook his head bitterly. "Blitzwing had t'get my consent. Had t'trick me. I couldn't do that t'Prowl even if I knew how. I couldn't go through with it."

"Trying to trick him would likely not work." Optimus agreed. "But perhaps telling him the truth would. You could tell him what you've told us."

"If he'll listen. An' what if he still doesn't believe me?"

"Then try telling him things that only you could know."

Jazz stared at the floor for a moment, then slumped.

"It's better'n any plan I've come up with. Okay. I jus' hope it works."

* * *

"So." Megatron summed up in disgust. "The best explanation we have is that Blitzwing stole the missing Autobot shell and took it to this underground bunker to have his uninterrupted way with it, then drugged himself with something we can't identify which put him into stasis and left his processor split into three... personalities."

"So the Autoscum didn't rescue their comrade after all. What a _shame_ you didn't let Prime speak first, oh great Megatron." Starscream sneered. "No wonder he looked so startled."

"It appears they _do_ have him now." Astrotrain put in. "Sensors show Skyfire leaving the area not long before your Seekers arrived. I'm surprised they didn't see him."

"Well they didn't. And what difference would it have made if they had?" Starscream asked snidely. "Let the glitches have their precious memorial. Not that I imagine there's much left of him by now. Corpses tend to start to powder away quite quickly when there's too much energy around, and Blitzwing _certainly_ seems to have enjoyed himself."

"Enough." Megatron said without heat, not at all concerned by the perennial sniping but wanting this resolved. "So what needs to be done? Scrapper?"

"Nothing we can do, Lord Megatron, it's not a physical problem."

"You slagger, you're just saying that because..." Astrotrain growled.

"Soundwave?" Megatron continued, quelling Astrotrain with a glare.

"Possible treatment plan, identified. Probability of success, high."

"Good. Fix him, then. I don't have time for any more of this nonsense."

* * *

Prowl stared at the other mech numbly. They had been left in here together to sort this out, and he had been determined not to be swayed into believing any of the lies that were bound to be spoken. But this mech looked and sounded and moved so much like Jazz. And the story he told did have some reasonable arguments to it.

And now, oh now the things he was saying were things no imposter should have known, though Prowl was doing his best to justify that knowledge.

"Like that time you got your doorwings clipped in the training hall." the imposter rambled on. "You gave those mechs such a lecture about safety even Red was impressed, and everyone thought it was because they were being careless. But that wasn't it at all. You were mad because they'd mucked up your paintjob after you'd spent all that time getting ready for Prime's arrival back..."

Jazz knew that story because he had kept pestering for an answer on why he was so upset that evening, and he had laughed at the answer when he got it and then had cuddled him close and told him that he was becoming vain. But that was Jazz, and Jazz was dead.

"...always thought it was cute how you rub little circles against your helm when you haven't had enough charge and you need t'concentrate. Not that it does anything in particular for ya, but you like the feel of it..."

Anyone could know that. Well, could at least extrapolate it from observing his behaviour. But would they have guessed how Jazz was charmed by it?

"...an' jus' the other orn we were talkin' again about gettin' a wider berth so y'don't end up with your wings pinned so hard when we're foolin' about..."

Prowl sought desperately for a way someone else might have found out about that. Maybe Jazz had spoken to one of the maintenance bots? It was not often a problem, it was only when they wanted to go as far as full spark sharing, and then only when he was underneath. Generally Jazz took the lower position out of courtesy, or they sat up against the wall or in any one of a dozen other positions to avoid the problem. But sometimes they just got carried away, like that night three orns before the battle where he had been injured.

"Please Prowler." the imposter begged. "Gimme a chance. At least gimme a sign you're even listenin' to me."

"I am listening." Prowl allowed.

The imposter's expression lightened hopefully just as Jazz's might have in a similar situation. But Jazz was dead. Jazz was gone, and he was alone. Primus, he was so alone.

* * *

"_This_ is your plan?"

He was not particularly surprised when Soundwave did not bother to answer him.

"Have you told Megatron what you're intending?"

"Solution, paramount. Details, irrelevant."

Starscream gave a derisive snort that was mostly feigned to cover a creeping sense of horror.

"Of course."

It was a stroke of genius, really. Mad genius, certainly, but genius nonetheless. The problem with any such solution used once was that there was then a precedent, an idea in Megatron's processor that might sit untouched for millions of vorns. And then one orn, without warning, it might be used against others. Whether or not Megatron currently knew what Soundwave was doing was indeed irrelevant: the sycophantic communications officer would always be willing to explain it to him at a moment's notice.

"Have you done this before?"

No answer. Again no surprise, but he remained uneasy.

"Have you at least told Reflector?"

"Advance warning, inadvisable. Your presence, not required."

Starscream huffed a retort without even thinking about it and headed out of the room. So long as it did not harm him or his Seekers it was none of his business. But it was a reminder to be wary around Soundwave. Ending up in a forced bond was nothing he cared to think about, and he envied neither Blitzwing nor Reflector in this experiment.

* * *

"Stop."

The word caught him off guard. Prowl had barely spoken since he had entered the room, merely staring and listening. At least he _claimed_ he was listening, but was any of this really getting through? How would he know?

For so long he had been able to read Prowl's mood through an almost instinctive use of the bond, but now he was looking in from the outside. This was what everyone else saw all the time. No wonder they thought him cold and emotionless.

"I do not wish to hear any more." Prowl continued.

"But..."

"It seems that there are two likely possibilities. The first is that Jazz is... is dead just as I felt happen, and that you are trying to deceive me much as you claim in your story that Blitzwing did you. The second is that you truly are Jazz and that what you say is true."

"It is."

"If it is, then I cannot afford to ignore your request to reinstate the bond."

Jazz relaxed.

"Thank Primus."

"However. If it is the former," Prowl continued coolly, "I do not intend to give you the satisfaction of enjoying your victory."

"Prowler, I swear to you..."

"Don't." His optics flickered a little and dimmed. "I cannot trust what you say. The only way to be sure is to share our sparks. Understand, I... I do not wish to do this. My spark is screaming that you cannot be Jazz, that he is dead, that I should not be considering this. But I must take the chance so I will. Under two conditions."

"Whatever you want." Jazz nodded, eager to get started and have this nightmare end.

"Firstly, just as in your tale, I do not wish to enjoy this experience. I will permit you no intimate connections and will appreciate no touch beyond that which is strictly required. If you are speaking the truth there will be time for that later, and if not I will at least not have betrayed my fidelity to my mate."

Jazz nodded, regretting the lack of an opportunity to prove himself through his knowledge of their physical relationship, but understanding and admiring the reasoning.

"Secondly," Prowl said after a moment, his optics dimming further, "we will do this in front of witnesses."

"What?" Jazz yelped. "Who?"

"Red Alert. And Ratchet. And... Mirage."

"Why? Why them?"

Prowl's optics offlined completely.

"Mirage to track you if you try to run. Ratchet to verify that I have not been affected in such a way as to accept you if you are lying. And Red Alert to shoot you if you prove to be someone else."

"Prowler, I'm me, I swear I am." Jazz told him urgently. "But if you don't make that clear when we've done this and Red shoots me, it'll kill you too."

"Of course. But in that case there would be no further reason to live."

* * *

Reflector looked anxiously about the crowded room as Soundwave leaned down to pick him up.

Ever since Megatron had shot his cannon at Starscream and missed and hit Viewfinder the whole gestalt had been considered unstable and was rarely called on to help with anything other than maintenance or cleaning. It was not quite an apology for the unnecessary damage done, but it was as close to an acknowledgement as the warlord ever came. Better than the death sentence most Decepticons got when they were permanently incapacitated.

But something had now changed: an abrupt summons, the instruction to merge into his alt form, and now he was being strapped down to a surgical berth and Hook was approaching with set of tools.

"Will this even work?" Starscream spoke up. "Alt mode to base mode, I mean?"

"In theory it should make no difference." Scrapper said dismissively.

"In _theory_ he was always supposed to have a robot gestalt mode, and look how _that_ turned out." the air commander pointed out snidely.

"What are you going to do with me?" he asked nervously.

"_We're_ not going to do anything." Hook told him. "_You're_ going to spark share with Blitzwing and form a bond."

"What! But... what?"

"The tricky part's exposing the gestalt spark." Hook murmured, as though to himself. "They're not designed to... ah. Here we go."

Reflector gasped as he felt tools probing around the components that housed his gestalt spark in alt mode. He had never even considered spark play in this form, and the sensations were unfamiliar as sections of armour were eased aside.

"W-wait..."

"When will this begin?" Megatron demanded, entering.

"Soon, Lord Megatron." Soundwave assured him.

"M-megatron. Please..."

"I appreciate this sacrifice, Reflector." Megatron told him in an oily tone. "What you do now greatly benefits our cause."

He gave up; there was no hope.

"Yes, Lord Megatron. Thank you."

"So now what?" Skywarp asked curiously.

"Aw, the rest's easy." Bonecrusher grinned. "We just pry open Blitzwing's spark chamber and weld Reflector inside."

"Inside!" Reflector yelped, trying and failing to transform back into his constituent parts.

"Well you're small enough. And it's not like you pull your weight around here anyway."

"Stop baiting him." Scrapper snapped. "Reflector calm down - we need you to form a bond with him and that's obviously not going to work if we kill you. Now lets get on with this. We're wasting time."

* * *

A/N: one chapter to go :)


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters, places, etc. belong to HasTak and other copyright holders. I make no profit from this.

* * *

Red Alert had to admit this was not precisely what he had had in mind when he heard that Prowl needed his assistance. He knew his own inherent paranoia was legendary: if anyone was going to be suspicious of anything, it would be him. But this _was_ Jazz. He had verified it in a dozen different ways and all he had expected to be asked to do was give his expert opinion to Prowl to settle the matter. Not so, apparently.

Ratchet had tried arguing the point, stating that he could always test Prowl for interference after the fact if it were deemed necessary, but Prowl had been adamant and had gotten increasingly stubborn over it. Finally Jazz had intervened, his accent thicker than ever with stress.

"C'n we jus' stop wit'the arguin' already? He's _scared_, okay? The bond's s'posed t'be a 'once an' forever' kinda thing an' he _felt_ me die an' far as he's concerned I'm dead. Only here I am wit'some whacked out tale 'bout transferrin' bonds. He needs ya here t'ground him, an' I get it. I don't _like_ it, but I get it. An' if this's the way it's gotta be, then I jus' wanna get on with it an' get it over with."

So here they were, ringed around the small private consulting room off the main repair bay, watching as Jazz carefully positioned himself above Prowl and opened his spark chamber. Mirage and Ratchet looked away, the former with a soft oath of dismay, but Red Alert kept his gaze and aim fixed. He was determined to see this through as he had been asked.

"Come on Prowler." Jazz murmured, hands twitching as he clearly fought the urge to caress his lover. "Open up for me. It'll make sense again soon."

Prowl's optics were off, his face turned away from Jazz, lips tight with distaste and fear and possibly just a little pain too, given the pressure of Jazz's weight on the hinges of his damaged doorwing. He gave a soft, strangled moan, then his plating parted and Jazz leaned down.

There was a moment of stillness, and then they both cried out.

* * *

Blitzwing felt pain tear through him, agony like he had never felt before. Something was wrong. Something was _gone_. He tried to curl up against the pain but found he was restrained. Torture? Was he a captive?

The pain was incredible and he screamed. What were they doing to him? No Autobot was this cruel, had he done something to displease Megatron? What was going on?

And then there was pressure against his chest. And then data drowning him and a cap on the pain.

And then a non-physical touch accompanied by three chiming voices.

"We are one."

* * *

Prowl stared up at Jazz as the initial intensity of the connection faded.

Jazz, yes it truly was Jazz. In that first moment of contact he had looked and seen and known and it all matched up. The majority of the data was slipping away now, leaving only vague impressions, but he knew without a doubt: this was Jazz, this was his mate. Everything he had been told was the truth.

Horror began to seep in. It was all true. Blitzwing had torn their bond and taken Jazz for himself. And he... he had nearly taken his own life in grief, had nearly condemned Jazz to either death or a life with Blitzwing.

//I'd have chosen death willingly.// Jazz assured him. //I'd not want to go on without you.//

//He hurt you. I saw...//

//Then you saw I hurt him back at least as bad.//

//He thought you were someone else?//

//Some composer-mech. I've never composed a tune in my life - well, not any worth sharing. I sang, sure, but I had a day job.//

//He didn't acknowledge that he had killed him. And he could so easily have killed you too.//

//Nah, not me. I'm tougher'n that.//

//You were frightened.//

Jazz's bravado faltered in the face of his true bondmate's perception.

//I thought he'd taken me from you in a way I couldn't fix. I was afraid I couldn't duplicate it. That you wouldn't let me try.//

//I nearly didn't.//

//But you did. That's all that matters.//

Prowl felt a swelling of reassurance and contentment coming from Jazz and decided to let the matter drop, then remembered abruptly that they were not alone.

"It seems he was telling the truth." he spoke up.

"We _told_ you that." Ratchet grumbled.

"Indeed, and I am now convinced."

"Yeah, so could you give us a bit o'privacy for a bit?" Jazz suggested, running his hands slowly down Prowl's sides. "We got some catchin' up t'do."

Mirage and Red Alert both headed quickly for the door without a protest, but Ratchet loomed over them.

"No. You're both falling apart. Neither of you are doing _anything_ else until I'm done with you."

* * *

"I still don't get it." Skywarp complained, watching Blitzwing settle in a corner of the rec room with his three new bondmates.

Thundercracker groaned.

"Look. His processor had split into three parts, right? Like a merged gestalt. That's why Reflector..."

"Not that." Skywarp shook his head. "I don't get how he ended up so beaten up and drugged. Doesn't _anybody_ else think that's weird?"

"No." Starscream told him sharply. "No-one thinks it's weird, and you don't either."

"But Star..."

"Because if it's _weird_, we'll need to find out _why_. And we don't want to do that."

"Why not?"

Starscream huffed.

"Idiot. Think for a minute. _Why_ would the Autobots leave Blitzwing _alive_ if they found him fragging their comrade's shell into dust? Why go to the trouble of drugging him with something esoteric and abandoning him there?"

Skywarp glanced at Thundercracker and found him looking equally nonplussed.

"Because they're too soft to murder someone?" he ventured, knowing it could not be right.

"Ha. Hasn't stopped them before."

"You're saying Blitzwing drugged himself?" Thundercracker frowned.

Starscream shrugged.

"Maybe. But the Bots still left him alive, didn't they. And didn't you notice something about his injuries? All the paint streaks left behind were black."

Skywarp gaped.

"Are you saying _Ja_... ow!"

Starscream grabbed his wing hard and yanked him closer.

"Shut. Up."

"But if he's alive..."

"I said shut up. This is why we're not asking any questions."

"But if he _is_, Megatron will find out." Thundercracker hissed.

"Not from us, he won't." Starscream sniffed, letting go of Skywarp's aching wing and reaching for his energon again. "_If_ it happens, we'll be as surprised as anyone. And it'll all be down to Blitzwing to explain."

* * *

Jazz came online to a series of reports from his inbuilt diagnostics. He was slightly underfuelled and there were still a few outstanding errors listed in his datalog, but his armour was mended and he was functional. His chronometer reported that 2.73 joors had elapsed - plenty of time for Ratchet to do the work that should have been needed to get him to this stage.

Onlining his optics, he found he was in the repair bay which was no surprise though it was unusual not to find one of the medics immediately in his field of vision. First Aid considered it a comfort; Ratchet saw it more as an opportunity to get in his first rant before the patient had recovered enough to argue back.

Turning his head, he saw Prowl sitting on the side of a berth to his left, still missing one doorwing but he now had the skeletal base of a new arm to replace the one he had lost. He was frowning down at a datapad gripped in the simple pincers of the damaged hand, periodically entering short streams of new data. Jazz watched him for awhile, marvelling over the fact that they had both survived this incredible attack, that the bond between them was restored, but as time passed he began to get irritated by his partner's continuing distraction.

Prowl knew he was online: there was a faint but unmistakeable acknowledgement through the bond. And whatever he was engrossed in could not be work since Ratchet was utterly intolerant of his patients doing anything other than recovering in his bay. The medic always insisted that if they were well enough to work, he would have released them already.

"Whatcha doin'?" he asked finally, sitting up.

"Working out how much of an advantage we can gain while Megatron believes you are dead."

"And?"

"Very little." Prowl sighed, subspacing the pad with his good hand. "Cosmos reported in that Skywarp and Thundercracker retrieved Blitzwing not long after Skyfire left the area with you and the others. There has been no outraged response from the Nemesis as yet, so it is likely that Blitzwing found some way to survive and is being punished for letting you escape. Most likely, they know full well that you are still functional."

"Huh. So much for that, then. So what're we doin' still here?"

"You're here until Ratchet releases you - he's concerned about viruses Blitzwing might have planted."

"He wanted to 'face with me, not frag with my processor."

"There's no reason why he may not have attempted both."

"Hn. And you?"

Prowl shook his head.

"I'm functional, if still physically unbalanced, so I've been released on light duties. I am still waiting for Hoist to finish fabricating the parts I need which could take several more days."

"Then why're ya here?"

Prowl regarded him thoughtfully, not answering, and after a moment Jazz started to worry that there was something being withheld from him. He leaned forward intently.

"Prowler?"

His partner stirred, shaken from whatever thoughts had absorbed him.

"I just wanted to be with you for a bit." he admitted. "Reassure myself that you're still here."

"That's... downright romantic, Sparkles."

"I'm afraid so." Prowl sighed. "Primus only knows what Ratchet is thinking - he hasn't said a word yet, but it's only a matter of time."

Jazz cocked his head to the side, one form of tension fading and another welling up.

"So you've just been sittin' here waitin' for me t'come back online?"

"Yes."

"Even though Ratchet coulda toldja pretty accurately when it was gonna happen so you could keep workin' in the meantime?"

"Well, I..."

"Yeah?"

"I couldn't concentrate." Prowl admitted.

Jazz grinned at his discomfort at that admission and considered teasing a little longer, but chose to let it drop in favour of other pleasures. He leaned back a bit, balancing on the edge of the berth.

"Been awhile since I've had your full attention. It's nice."

"There's always so much to do."

"Yeah. I should take advantage of it while it lasts, I think."

Prowl finally picked up on what he was thinking and looked up in alarm.

"Jazz, wait..."

"I mean, we've never done it in the medbay before, right?"

"Ratchet'll kill us!"

"Aw he'll get over it. I wonder if Red's watching?"

Prowl began to splutter another protest but Jazz decided he had heard enough. He pounced.

* * *

The end.


End file.
